


Aftermath

by NCISVU



Category: NCIS
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCISVU/pseuds/NCISVU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony almost adds his name to an ever growing list of people Jethro’s had to say goodbye to in the cruelest of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the surgery prompt on my hurt/comfort bingo card.

Tony could smell it before he opened his eyes and the smell made him feel sick to his stomach. It smelled like antiseptic… like a hospital. The steady beeping interrupting the silence of the brightly lit room confirmed his suspicions. That explained the haziness in his mind. If he was in a hospital, he’d surely been given meds that would impair his ability to think clearly and remember.

Still, he tried hard to remember. He remembered sitting in the car, sharing a thing of fries with Gibbs while they staked out the apartment of a Petty Officer suspected of armed robbery. He remembered the shy smile his words of adoration had put on Jethro’s face. He would never forget that, no matter how many meds the doctors pumped into his body.

He remembered the two way radio crackling to life moments before Bishop’s excited voice announced their suspect was headed down the alley on foot. There had been a confident, ‘I got this,’ before he’d stepped out of the car, just in time for the suspect to see him and take off running.

The foot chase had ended when Tony had tackled the man. He was in the process of wrestling the guy’s arms behind his back so he could cuff him when the knife came out of nowhere. The big knife. The scary knife. The knife so sharp he didn’t even feel it going in. That was when time slowed to a near standstill.

Tony remembered the overwhelming fear. He remembered the unbearable pressure on his insides and he remembered experiencing one of the standard, life flashing before your eyes moments. At least he hadn’t seen any white lights. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not like that. Not _alone_.

The next thing he remembered was the gunshot and trying to figure out if it was him who’d been shot. He still didn’t know the answer to that question. There had been too much pain to decipher what was hurting and why. In addition to all the pain, there was the fact that the suspect had collapsed on top of him and was now nothing more than dead weight, crushing him as he laid helplessly on the pavement, slowly—or maybe not so slowly?—bleeding to death.

He vaguely remembered Jethro screaming his name and the heavy body being jerked off of him before frantic hands were suddenly everywhere—his face, his chest, his abdomen. They ripped at his shirt and smacked at his cheek as his eyes clouded over completely and the world around him faded to black. Tony didn’t remember anything after that.

****

Jethro remembered everything. He remembered the fries they’d shared before watching Tony race off after their suspect. He remembered watching the takedown and he remembered how his heart seemed to fall from his chest to his gut when the suspect had pulled the knife and stuck it in Tony’s gut with no hesitation at all. He remembered the deafening blast of the gunshot he’d fired and how it had immediately and fatally dropped the Petty Officer.

He remembered running for what seemed like miles to get to Tony’s side and waiting for what seemed like hours for the ambulance to arrive while the pool of blood Tony was lying in continued spreading across the street below, despite his best efforts to stop it. He remembered the sirens blaring as the ambulance raced through the streets towards Bethesda and the matching chaos in the back of the rig as two medics and a small group of firefighters worked feverishly to keep Tony alive.

He remembered keywords like rupture, internal bleeding, surgery and possible death come out of the doctor’s mouth before scribbling a sloppy version of his signature across the bottom of the consent paperwork as Tony was already being raced towards the elevator on a gurney. He was guessing if his blood pressure had gone any higher, he would’ve been the one in danger of possible death but that didn’t matter much to him. He didn’t want to be stuck on this earth without Tony; didn’t want to be left behind again. No. He couldn’t bear the thought of that.

It hadn’t been until late that evening that he’d actually been able to breathe again. He remembered his heart clenching and palpating as he saw the doctor approach one more time. He’d braced for the worst but the doctor had quickly delivered the news that he would never take for granted again: Tony’s alive and he’s going to be just fine. A low, pained groan brought Jethro out of his reverie.

“What happened?” Tony asked weakly.

Jethro’s hand found Tony’s, softly, gently touching his fingers as if it were the first time he’d ever reached for the man’s hand. He held onto it as if it were a lifeline. It _was_ a lifeline. “Ya lost your spleen,” he answered. _‘Really, Jethro?’_ he thought. _‘Is that the best you could come up with?’_

“I’ve really been wanting to drop a few pounds,” Tony replied. “How much do you think a spleen weighs?” And then, there it was. The smile. The smile that stopped Jethro’s heart time every single time he saw it. It was a more pained version but considering the alternative, Jethro would take it.

It wasn’t until a few days later when Jethro had brought him home from the hospital that the full gravity of what he’d been through actually set in. There, in the bedroom, on the bed that he so desperately wanted to lie down on because the trip home from the hospital had completely drained him, laid the shirt Jethro had been wearing that day. Only the top few buttons had been undone, in the man’s haste to get it off and get changed, and its color had changed from the light blue that brought out the man’s eyes so handsomely to a sickly shade of brownish red, stained by massive amounts of blood. Of _his_ blood.

Tony couldn’t help but feel sick again as he stared at the garment but he was also unable to pull his eyes away. He’d almost died in his lover’s arms. He’d almost added his name to an ever growing list of people Jethro had had to say goodbye to in the cruelest of ways.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Jethro moved past him, balled up the shirt and tossed it into the trash can in the bathroom. “Don’t be,” he replied. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

**End.**


End file.
